Chapter 21

Tim's turn:

Sadly, the ex says we don't get Vicki for Christmas since we had her for Thanksgiving. That's okay. We're doing at least a month next summer. Watching Kim and Vicki together has made me very comfortable about that.

Impromptu Christmas party. The Unit manager at work invited all his staff, including me, and our wives and/or significant others to his house for a Saturday evening.

"You know Kim's only sixteen."

"Yeah? So what? You married 'er. I've met her. She's not a ditz. If you show up, she'd better be right there with you."

Just about everybody has met Kim. She's pretty good about showing up for lunch on her Friday off-days. I've gotten a lot of ribbing, and yes, some pretty pointed probing questions over my obviously teenaged wife. Of course, seeing Kim is one thing. Talking with Kim is another.

The vocabulary is NOT 'you know' and 'I'm like' and 'she goes'. From early on, I've enjoyed Kim's verbal jousting, horrible puns, plays on words, and I am fortunate that I work with a pretty intelligent bunch, so after one particularly conversational lunch, I was riding back to the plant with a salesman and one of the mechanical guys.

"She's pretty quick with a turn of phrase, ain't she?"

"Yeah, I married 'er for her vocabulary," I said.

"Yeah, uh-huh..."

So Kim and I walk up to the boss's front door and push the doorbell.

The boss himself answered. "Kim," he said, "Very happy to see you here. I told him he couldn't come unless he brought you."

"Oh, Rick," she tittered, "He doesn't get out of my sight except to go to work. Has to have my permission."

"Well trained," a female voice said. "I'm Pam. Rick's wife. He told me to expect you, dear..."

"Hello, Mizz Pam," Kim said, her Southern manners showing.

"Please don't call me Mizz Pam, Kim. You're a wife. I'm a wife. Equals."

Kim smiled. "I'm okay with that!"

"Come on, sweetie," she said. "Let's parade you in front of the other wives. Make 'em all jealous. You look like a doll!"

"Thank you! You look nice, too."

"Baby, I wish I still had it. You got it."

Kim was wearing a dress, not flashy, not gaudy, not revealing, sort of like the frame on the Mona Lisa. She DID look good, but then I've been known to be a bit biased.

I went in to meet the rest of the crew. A couple of my co-workers were younger engineers, so the wives were a bit less matronly than Rick's wife, Pam, but they stood with Kimberly and ... sorry ... I have the pick of the basket here.

Industrial facility in the South, so what do YOU expect the music to be? Yep! Both kinds: Country AND Western. I'm not helpless. Two other couples are dancing. I turn to Kim. "Wanna?"

"I think we can do that," she said.

Something I didn't know about Kimberly. She can dance. I have to ask where she learned. Of course, we're doing a waltz and she whispers in my ear, "I didn't know you could dance," followed by giggled, "I feel that!"

"Shhhh!" I hissed, willing myself to lose the erection caused by proximity to Kim's shapely body.

Got another giggle.

"You're trouble," I whispered.

"One more glass of Pam's merlot and we won't make it home, buddy!"

Little Miss 'I'm Only Sixteen' had a couple of social drinks and she does NOT handle alcohol well at all. I noted that. So much for 'You're the sober one. Drive us home' plan. Oh well, I can back off.

Kim actually got snagged for a couple of dances by some of the other guys and I took a turn around the floor with one of the wives. I caught the LOOK. Kim's face, over her dance partner's shoulder. I read 'go ahead, buddy boy, just don't let her feel what I felt.'

No way. Nobody, supermodel to movie star, was gonna mess with me and the adoration I have for Kimberly Elkins Duncan.

The party broke up and we bid our hosts good-bye, said bye to several of the others, wives promising to call Kim in the future, and we got in our SUV and drove off. I was driving. Kimberly was giggling.

"Tim, tell me you've never been sucked in a car."

"I have never been sucked in a car, Kimmy."

"No, really."

"Really! Never."

"This console's ... I think I can..." She was halfway over the console, unzipping my pants.

"Kim!"

"Hush! I'm on a mission here!" she giggled as she fished my hardening dick out of the fly. "There it is!" she giggled. "Now..."

She's young and she's flexible and a pair of lips encircled the head of my dick and I almost drove off the road. Her head popped up when I swerved.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"God, Kimberly! You KNOW what you do to me."

"Yes, I do. Drive very carefully." And her head bobbed down.

No, I didn't come. She knows the signs. I could feel it building, building ... And her head popped back up.

"I am afraid that if I finish, we'll be a traffic accident statistic," she giggled. "Get me home. There's something I've been thirsty for all night."

"I've been hungry myself."

"Yeah, and you dancing with Darla, I need to re-establish control..." she giggled again. "At least you didn't grab HER ass when y'all danced."

"Not when I have possession of the most grabbable ass in the universe right here," I said. "I took a downgrade to dance with Darla. Sammy got an upgrade dancing with you."

"And HE didn't grab my ass, either. Nor did I get close enough to feel this!" she said, squeezing my erection as she tried maneuvering it back into my pants. When we parked and locked the car, she was tugging my hand, walking fast toward the apartment.

Inside the door... "So, buddy boy, Darla was..."

"Somebody else's wife. Not nearly as pretty as YOU are. Dancing is a polite social function."

"Good answer," she giggled, kneeling.

"We could wait a bit and get undressed and into bed."

"Nope," she said. "Gotta be just like this..." she was working my zipper again.

I was still charged up from the prequel in the car. "But..."

"My little fantasy," she said, releasing my dick from captivity.

"How long have you HAD this fantasy?"

"Since I saw you dancing with Darla. I thought that I'd REALLY show you who cares for you."

"I KNOW who cares for me..."

"So I gotta do this," she grinned. "Nope. Pants gotta come down. I can't get your balls." She held the head of my dick in her lips as she worked the belt buckle, released me to get my trousers and drawers down, then...

I was primed. MORE than primed. Her head moved forward. Kim doesn't 'deep throat'. She just works as much of me into her mouth as she can, and she works my balls while she does it, and right now I'm already halfway there.

"Mmmmmm," comes from her, around my dick. Another "mmmmmm. You're already sooooo close," she said.

I was past 'close'. When she pulled back to tell me, her hand on my shaft gave the final stroke to put me over. She squealed as the first jet hit her face. The squeal was cut short when she swallowed half my shaft, her tongue aiding the suction as she caught every surge.

Only the most herculean effort on my part kept my knees from buckling despite Kim's attempts to suck me inside out.

She stood up, announcing, "That's it!" Giggle. "Got ALL that!" wiping that errant first spurt off her cheek, then connecting her eyes with mine as she stuck that sticky finger into her mouth. "ALL of it! Darla didn't get THAT!"

"I could've been stranded on a desert island with her and she wouldn't get that, princess."

She kissed me. "I know..." Giggle. "I'm still a little buzzed. And I REALLY did think about doing you at the party."

"Come on, little girl," I said. "I wish to assault you..."

"I'm all gooshy, Tim," she slurred. "I need a really good licking."

"Part of the plan I reserve for slightly inebriated princesses," I said.

"Better be just the ONE princess," she giggled. "Here!" She bent over and pulled my pants up so I could walk. "Hold these! Follow me!" She took my hand, tugging me towards the bedroom. "Now! Naked!"

One should obey a princess. Especially when one finishes peeling off his socks and finds her splayed open on the bed before him, smirking like the cat that ate the canary.

Saturday morning, though...

"I told you the last time I drank wine that I'd NEVER do it again, Tim ... And what did you DO to me last night? I'm still having happy little twinges." She winced. "Ouch! This headache ain't one of them."

"You ... I told you not to have the second glass..."

"I was having fun. Everybody had a second glass."

"They're used to it. You're not."

"I know," she said. "I guess I didn't learn that lesson last time."

"Or you thought that it just might be worth it..."

"It hurts when I giggle," she said. "But last night when I got you home..."

"Last night before we GOT home..."

Okay, she risked the giggle. "That, too." We kissed. "Do we have orange juice in the fridge?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Let's get dressed and go have breakfast someplace that has orange juice," she told me.

"Orange juice? Is that what it takes?"

"Sounds really good. That place up the road. Coffee's good there, too."

"Okay." We dressed. Not being in a particular hurry, there was a certain amount of happy fondling as various parts were exposed then covered. Out the door, up the road, breakfast with the love of my life. Even clad in a bulky sweatshirt over a pair of faded jeans, she's a delight. My buttons are pushed.

On the way back we drove past the local mall.

"It's a madhouse," she said. "Tell me we don't need to do that."

"We don't. I have something special for your Christmas present already wrapped up. Besides that new MacBook you're using..."

"Laci said she'd've married you for a MacBook. But it'd have to be a MacBook Pro."

"She said that?"

"Yep! In front of Aunt Jenn. You wanna hear what I told 'er?"

"I'm not sure I wanna know..."

Snicker. "I told 'er that I would've married you for a four-function calculator as long as I got to sleep with you as part of the deal."

"I'm sure that Jenn loved that."

"She almost fell over. Laci says she's glad that YOU have to put up with me instead of her and Aunt Jenn."

"You need to stop upsetting your aunt, baby."

"But they start it. Oh, and the latest? I know you got vacation the first week of Christmas break."

"I did. They're really going to do it?"

"Yep! We're flying to California with them. Wedding. Then THEY stay. We fly back or whatever. I'd kinda like to spend a holiday here with you, if that's okay."

"We can do that," I said. "I'm surprised, though. Thought maybe you might want to try skiing or something."

"Couple of things wrong there, guy," she said. "First, it's the Christmas holidays. Any ski resort is gonna look like the mall with addition of the possibility of frostbite. Second, I'm a poor little Louisiana girl. I do not have a particular desire to ski. It's just not in my genes. I do however have a desire to walk a windswept beach in December with the man I love."

"You're a cheap date," I laughed.

"Oh, pooh! I desire the classic cliché of long walks on the beach." She gave me that half-smirk, half-smile that shatters my heart. "Do YOU like to ski?"